Notes In Wartimes

Notes In Wartimes

A Poem by Radad Ibn Nasir

The same old letters disguised by different names..


Notes in Wartime

The sound of a scratch
Perhaps, is too brash

For silence.

Not minding the violence,

Caps the clash

That is timeless.
The pen it bleeds
Forward to relate

The seeds of fate.

A swish of a turn

A refuge to burn

No more treaty learned.

A chocked throat leads

A stopped heart bleeds

No more sounds

Of peace counting beads.

© 2014 Radad Ibn Nasir

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Author's Note

Radad Ibn Nasir
the old pen foretold what the block print is digitally presenting

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Added on October 9, 2014
Last Updated on October 9, 2014


Radad Ibn Nasir
Radad Ibn Nasir

Youngstown, OH

A voice without a canvas is just an echo heard throughout time. Sometimes children ask me to play, so I play. The elderly beckon with wisdom and I syphon. I think I was born an expression... I hav.. more..